This story features an Itachi coming to terms with his ideas of pacifism; he and all the Konoha crew are aged up, Kisame is aged down. I've also tweaked some of the rules regarding the ranks, but all of this will be explained in-story.

I sincerely hope you enjoy, xox

-Vivi

It is midnight in June.
You are sleeping. I have been led to the edges of infinity.

The morning sun rises red through a thick cover of haze. Itachi, who has not slept in days, watches it with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He eyes feel heavy, but he knows if he shuts them for just a moment too long he will slip into unconsciousness. It was early in the evening as he'd made camp that he first felt that unfamiliar chakra signature hovering just at the edges of his sensory range, and any hope he'd once had to get any sleep at all were dashed in an instant. He will stay awake for as long as necessary.

With a grunt he gets to knees, the ache in them shooting clean up through to his back, and takes the few steps to where his little brother lies on an old, padded blanket. Sasuke had slept, but only barely. It'd been hard to listen as he turned this way and that, gave frustrated sighs and groans, and stifled small sniffles from what was surely homesickness—Itachi has the tact not to mention that out loud, at least. He leans down and gives the boy a gentle push on his shoulder, though they both know he's been awake for some time now.

"Let us make for the road," he says quietly before he remembers himself. He's accustomed to traveling long days with an ANBU squad trained to push through exhaustion and hunger; it is far different from traveling with a ten-year old genin. "Are you hungry? We should reach a small village by the afternoon and—"

Sasuke roughly pushes past him, bumping their shoulders as he stomps over to their rucksack. He folds the blanket haphazardly and stuffs it inside the bag with childish anger. To Itachi, it looks like he's trying his best not to cry, the pout on his face easily deciphered. They'd only been on the road for a full day, and with Sasuke kept clueless about exactly why, it's probably a more exhausting trip than it otherwise would be for him. Itachi, though, is the older brother; he hardens his heart to it, knowing they cannot risk stopping for too long and certainly not settling until they make it clear of Fire Country's borders. He won't be garnering any good favor from his brother in the coming days, he knows.

But the life of a missing nin is difficult by design. They're not branded as such, not yet, but Itachi knows it will happen soon enough—and word of it will spread like wildfire. He's hunted only a handful of rogue shinobi in his time as a captain, but almost all of them had been living in caves or abandoned houses near backwater villages and towns. What a thing, to be cut down by once-friends and left to bleed out alone in the dirt. He shuts his eyes against the images of both isolation and gore, wanting desperately anything other than such an end for his brother.

It will be fine, he tells himself as he pries the rucksack from Sasuke's fist. They'd made it to the southeastern edge of Fire Country already, and by this evening would pass through the port town bridging Fire Country to the Land of Waves. Once they board the boat taking them west, Itachi hopes his anxiety will calm. Though their strong Uchiha genetics might give them away to some, the further from the Leaf, the less likely they are to be recognized. We can start a new life.

"Are you gonna finally tell me where we're going?"

They'd started walking, keeping to the main path beneath the dense tree cover. Whoever has been tailing them follows, but slowly enough that they vanish from detection at times. The closer they come to the coast, the smaller the trees, and if Itachi's estimations are correct, most of the remaining distance to the port town is covered in a vast plain of grass, almost an ocean in its own right. There will not be anywhere for them to hide then, but the same would be true for the enemy.

"The mission is classified," he answers for about the tenth time since they left. "It is ancient Uchiha business, and that's all you need to know."

Sasuke hasn't believed it from the start, Itachi thinks. It's a flimsy lie, even if the Uchiha do keep many secrets. He's not sure exactly when to tell Sasuke the truth, but the time will come. Eventually. Their mother had only recently introduced him to Granny Cat, and that had taken some time for him to wrap his head around. The scope of this, though, is so much more than a mere supplies shop indebted to the clan.

This rebellion must be put to rest before it can even breathe. The entire clan should be held responsible.

He swears under his breath, his stomach flipping wildly as the memory assails him against his will. Not only had Shimura the goddamned audacity to suggest what he had, but Lord Third had made his opinion clear. The council had just launched into a discussion as if the topic of genocide was just another matter of regular business.

We must not speak of such things in front of Itachi.

His heart pounds as he breathes heavy, angry breaths through his nostrils. In front of Itachi. The world around him goes dark, and all he can think is how he should have killed them all right then and there. He feels a sharp pulse through his lungs, the pain spiking alongside his anger. He could have done it, and it would've felt good. He almost turns heel to sprint back to Konoha and drive a kunai through those old bastard's hearts.

"Nii-san?"

He stops dead in his tracks, Sasuke's small voice hesitant and confused. It's been a long time since Itachi has let himself be seen by his younger brother as anything less than calm and collected. He glances down at that face, slightly ragged from the restless sleep but still so bright in its innocence. So full of life—a life, Itachi reminds himself, that he is in the midst of protecting right now. He cannot ever afford to lose his cool, especially not before they cross the sea.

"What is it?" He forces a gentle smile that does not reach his eyes, something Shimura taught him long ago. He wonders if Konoha will be a part of him forever, no matter how hard he may try to forget it.

"Is something wrong?"

They've stopped, though, and that is unacceptable. "No," he says evenly, gesturing for them to carry on. "Just thinking of home."

And that we'll likely never to see it again. He clenches his jaw, pressing forward.

The two of them clear the forest, wading out into the grassy field by mid-morning. They sweat in the harsh sun, missing the greenery and the foliage dearly, but Sasuke's spirits do not seem to be too deflated. He becomes even more his usual self once they cross the little town—no more than a few run-down buildings clustered closely together on the road—and eat a hearty but simple meal of rice and pickled vegetables. For good measure, Itachi purchases two straw hats, reasoning aloud that it will shield them from the worst of the sun's rays. Inwardly, he hopes the long paper tassels will further obscure their faces to passers by. He gives a small sigh of relief when Sasuke does not fight him on it, placing it snugly on his own head.

It is not long after that Sasuke tires beyond his capabilities, his pace slowing considerably. Itachi keeps careful track of his chakra signature as he lags behind. Even though time is of the essence, it wouldn't do to worry his younger brother with a panicked sense of urgency. After an hour of slow progress, Itachi wordlessly shrugs the bag from his shoulders and gestures for Sasuke to climb on. It's been almost two full days on the road now, and no genin could be expected to travel for so long without rest. Itachi hoists up his brother, holding him steadily by the legs as his arms wrap around his neck. He's heavy, but Itachi has little choice but to tough it out.

Not the most geographically inclined, he is grateful to see that his estimations of their travels had not been too far off. The sun is low, casting brilliant shades of deep oranges and purples into a sky dotted with starlight, when they crest a hill and finally see the water. The tiny port town on the shoreline is aglow with evening fires and invitingly warm windows, and he comments aloud that it's a beautiful sight.

Sasuke, though, is sound asleep, his breaths deep against Itachi's back and the sweat from his face sticking his cheek to Itachi's neck.

Against years worth of training, his exhaustion finally begins to seep through. The gentle breathing of his dear brother and the smell of cooking fish amid the chill of the evening air ease his sense of caution. Too tired to be too anxious, he becomes hyper-aware that his feet sting so badly they may well be swollen, his lower back throbbing from Sasuke's weight.

Only a bit more, he urges himself. An inn should be no issue, though it was not uncommon for citizens of these small towns to invite travelers into their homes. With a child, he figures, it will be even easier to procure a place to sleep. A small smile breaks over his features at the mere thought of a nice bed. Even for all of the intensive training he'd endured (and as a captain known for strict rulekeeping in his black ops squad ), he hadn't been prepared for how strenuous it'd been to travel so anxiously after a few days of ceaseless plotting and planning behind the Hokage's back. He can't remember longing for anything this deeply in his entire life.

He blinks once, hard, against the urge to sleep. When he opens them, there is a figure standing on the road beyond that had not been there before.

His pulse begins to race so fast that he's sure he can feel it flowing through each individual vein. Learned instinct takes hold as he makes a series of lightning-fast calculations: it appears to be a man of large stature, wearing clothing traditional of Mist natives. On his face sits a mask not unlike Itachi's own in ANBU, but less animalistic and far more human— without Sharingan, though, his eyes cannot see its pattern with any clarity. A sword swathed in cloth and about as tall as he is hangs strapped to his back, but that seems to be his only weapon. But those loose robes and the hakama underneath billowing in the light, sea-salted breeze...more could easily be concealed, especially now that night has fully settled around them.

But then he blinks again, and the path between he and the town is clear.

He pushes for chakra. Even if he weren't so exhausted, his range is not terribly far; there is nothing he can feel, and he settles for pulling a knife from the pouch at his hip for comfort's sake as he marches steadily on. Fatigue-driven delirium is something he's experienced before, and he shuffles sleep higher on his list of priorities. The town is quiet and far smaller than he'd thought, and a girl younger than Sasuke checks them into a room at the smallest in on the shore.

He kneels down to place his brother, who does little more than sigh sleepily, down on the futon beneath the lone window. Food and bath can wait until the morning, Itachi decides, though that may be less for Sasuke's benefit and more for his own. It takes a long while for his back to relax enough to lie flat, his whole body sagging to finally be off his feet.

It doesn't feel as blissful as he'd hoped, but his joints are grateful for the rest. He tries his damnedest not to sleep, but it can't be helped. His mind fades in and out of the waking world, lulled by Sasuke's deep, easy breathing. Each time he wakes he lazily scolds himself, measuring the passage of time by listening to the town outside. It gets quieter each time, the chakra signatures all around him slowing in the way characteristic of sleeping civilians. Eventually he forgets, eased into a false sense of security, that he is on the run and exceedingly vulnerable.

The fourth time he wakes, he feels a civilian's chakra lingering close to their door in the main hall. He narrows his eyes, keeping his breaths steady to feign the sounds of sleep, and notices that in the corner of the room sits that big, awkward sword he'd seen on that phantom figure. It pushes his drowsiness from him in an instant, on high alert as he comes to his senses in understanding that he has been found. He lies there rigid on the futon, activating the Sharingan to ready himself. It will wake Sasuke, but a quick strike before the potential enemy can even move is the smartest choice right now. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, sparing one last glance at his brother, before—

He does not even get the chance to move. In the next moment there is a man, his strength massive and overwhelming, pinning him by the wrists to the mat. His other hand claps over Itachi's eyes, rendering his greatest weapon useless. Somewhere by his thighs the bigger man's knees are dug into the futon, all power and perfectly still in that uncanny way only a shinobi can manage. Itachi does not struggle, opting instead to conserve his energy and think calmly.

The assailant's weapon had been left untouched, and he'd left Itachi's mouth and legs free. Even if he is a common thief or just an idiot with a death wish, he is giving far too much leeway for a counterattack. Perhaps he is banking on Sasuke's presence being a deterrent for too much commotion, or perhaps he has darker, more sinister motives.

The man laughs, a quiet sound through his nose only. "Well, they weren't wrong about you in this," he says, his speech much too polite for the situation at hand. His voice is muffled by the mask, and he is keeping it quiet so as to not wake half the town. "Calm under pressure. It's always encouraging when my intel is accurate, but there is something I don't understand."

It's certainly meant as an open-ended comment; if he is hoping Itachi will give in with a response, he is out of luck. The silence is long, but no one has mastered the pregnant pause quite as well as Itachi.

"For someone making such a bold escape," he continues, "you're being quite careless."

Itachi says nothing. He is taking in the feel of the man's skin, clammy from the humid air and warm against his night-chilled face. He hopes he'll tire of non-response soon enough, leaving Itachi an opening to incapacitate him and make his escape.

"It's the boy, isn't it?" There's an almost lighthearted tinge in the way he's asked it. "He's a ranked shinobi, but I've watched these last few days how you coddle him. That does not match up with what I've been told."

He fights from grinding his teeth in sudden anger. In no way can he let mention of Sasuke go unchallenged, and he keeps his voice steady. "And what is it you've been told?"

Beside him he can feel Sasuke's chakra spike before the startled gasp cuts through the quiet. He's woken, and it is at the worst possible time—for the man declares in perfect clarity:

"Uchiha Itachi-san, I am here to kill you for crimes most heinous: conspiring to murder your clan, shinobi, civilian, and child all, and betraying the Village Hidden by Leaves by fleeing from the shadow of justice. Have you anything to say in your defense?"